The Days Following
by Caike
Summary: This is gonna be a collection of related or unrelated one-offs focusing on Naruto and Hinata after the conclusion of the story. If you want fluffy romance between these two, there will be stories here for you.


Author's Note: Yes, I'm still working on _Ripples,_ but with the ending of the manga I'm just overcome with feelings and ideas so this is gonna be the first in what is most likely going to be a series of one-offs or at most three-parters about Naruto and Hinata and their lives together. Some stories may reference _The Last_, some may just go by the manga, and some may even reference anime filler. Y'all are smart enough to determine which is which. Most chapters will probably be waffy, sickeningly sweet fluff but if I'm feeling particularly degenerate, I'll add some shameless smut too (those chapters will be tagged for those who don't dig that sort of thing). Hell, I might even write about some canon couples that aren't NaruHina. I'll play this thing by ear. For now, just enjoy the first story, _Kisses._

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Story 1: Kisses

When they wake up, they share a _good morning_ kiss. It's innocent and honest: the morning is quite good indeed. It's a kiss that solidifies the glorious truth of their union. It says no, they haven't just been dreaming; they really do share a bed.

Once she rises from their bed (and she's always first to rise; he's quite the heavy sleeper even now) she gives him the _sleep a little more_ kiss and he readily obeys. That kiss tides him over until the delicious aroma with which he has become so familiar wafts to his nose and his hunger overrides his laziness, bringing him right to the dining table where she offers a quick _your breakfast is ready_ kiss. Before devouring his meal at breakneck pace, he accepts graciously with a _thank you for cooking for me_ kiss. These two kisses are similar, but not to be confused for each other. One is an offering of gratitude and the other is gratitude for her offering.

In between bites and sips, they converse and it is nothing like how they used to be. They're comfortable around each other, now, and dialogue flows freely between them. He can't help but wonder how it could have ever been so different, how they were ever anything but two souls in perfect harmony. It seems like a different life. Perhaps it was.

After he's consumed every last bite, he carefully wipes his mouth – he never used to do that before, but he doesn't want to befoul his wife with an unclean kiss – and gives her the _my meal was delicious, honey_ kiss. This kiss is in her top three favorites and so she responds with the _I'm glad you enjoyed, my love_ kiss. Being a wife is only a part of her life, of course. She has duties and goals and ambitions, both about her clan and the village at large, but she cannot deny the spark of pride she feels at keeping her husband happy and healthy.

Things then get busy. They shower, sometimes together (never would she have thought herself capable of _that_ ten years ago) and sometimes they even partake of the super secret _let's wash each other_ kiss (and that would have been absurd to her even just a year before their wedding). It's so delightfully comfortable that a few droplets of disappointment inevitably fall in their eyes while he prepares to leave for work. She knows how important his duty is and he is truly glad to have it, but still...

He always reignites the smile with the _I'll be back_ kiss. It's never _ever_ a _goodbye_ kiss. Such a thing would be unthinkable in their household. To ensure the veracity of his promise, she applies the _good luck at the office_ kiss. The two of them both tell themselves that that's all they need, but not a day has gone by that they have been able to resist the back-and-forth _I'll miss you_ and _I'll miss you more_ kisses. Some days, especially after the weekends when they have spent so much time together tending to his little garden on their balcony and plucking flowers for her to press, their exchange goes on for longer than either of them intended. The _no, I'll miss you more_ kisses turn into a _you should probably get going before your assistants get mad _kiss and its corresponding _eh, they can deal with it_ kiss.

It is for this reason that they eventually bought an alarm clock that would bring them out of their otherwise endless loop. She hates it. He hates it. They both reluctantly acknowledge its importance. There had been quite a few incidents of full body blush-worthy embarrassment before they decided on that particular purchase. They didn't need anyone else bursting into their home, legitimately worried about the head of Konoha's strongest clan and/or the Hokage, only to find both of those prominent figures in a compromising position. Her sister still made snide references to her state of undress at the time and she'd heard stories of jokes at her husband's expense about needing to redirect his concentration to work instead of pleasure.

Separately, they check the clock throughout the day, counting down the hours until the next kiss. How could anyone expect two people to live like that, deprived so long of that which they needed more than food, than water, than air itself? Even worse was when one of them had a mission that removed them from one another for multiple days. They made the best of that circumstance: he took her pillowcase on long journeys, that he could always catch her scent, and she wore his T-shirt to bed, that she would always feel wrapped in his love. Even so, the bed always felt cold and uncomfortable on those dreadful nights when they were two isolated halves yearning to be whole.

Regardless of how much time they spend apart, the reunion is always reinvigorating. That first kiss when they meet once more, the blissful fusion of _I'm home_ and _welcome home _kiss is like the first day of spring after an extended winter. Everything melts and new light warms their hearts. It's another of her top three favorites.

But it's not number one.

Sometimes there is dinner, and sometimes there is another bath, where kisses are certainly plentiful. What does not change is that every night, the deficit of kisses hollowed out within them from being lonely halves becomes too great to bear and they can no longer tolerate leaving that debt unpaid. He might cup her cheek and look into her pale, shining eyes. She might grasp his bandaged hand and give it her warmth, letting him know that no matter what it's like underneath its wrappings, she always wants to hold the warm, powerful hand that held hers so safely on that battlefield so many years ago. No matter who gives the signal, once they meet lips with the _I want you kiss,_ there are very few things in existence that can split them once more.

They lose themselves in the _I missed you so much _kisses, stumbling back towards the bedroom with a clumsy elegance, like love-drunk dancers in the private ballroom that is their home. He tends to lead their waltz, though sometimes she takes charge when she's feeling especially desirous. She used to be so hesitant and nervous when he would set himself upon her. Not for him, of course: her complete trust in him has been present since long before they said their vows. No, she used to be quite self-conscious about her own performance, that after coming so far and getting everything she'd ever wanted, the rug would be pulled out from under her and she'd choke at the end. But after many – _many_ – attempts, she'd been able to prove her own talent to herself and discovered she never needed to prove it to him. In retrospect, she felt foolish for having doubted him at all.

On that bed, where they worship each other and their love, there are countless kisses. They are far too many to categorize or name and neither of them is anywhere close to the right head space to give it much thought anyway. Instead, instinct takes over and these are simply _raw_ kisses. But from this swarm of lips upon flesh rises one kiss that is exceptional. This kiss is one that has ascended beyond the others, a kiss that cannot be given consciously, but only distilled from a pure, unmitigated torrent of love. Like the mass from which it is born, this kiss has no name, but unlike its siblings, it is not the case that neither party cares to give it a label. Instead, this kiss _cannot_ be named, for names are for mundane things and this kiss is anything _but._ It _speaks_ at a frequency that only they can ever hear.

The kiss says, _I love you_ _more than life itself. Without you, I am nothing. If you left, I would wait an eternity to see you again. _Of course, it says more than that, but in ways where words are simply inadequate. In one touch, the kiss delivers the grand tale of their romance from the very start and does not stop until the far future, where they have lived a lifetime of bliss together.

It is that kiss that is her all time favorite, and his as well, so both of them do what they can to make sure they get to experience it as much as possible.

Following that are more kisses, none quite as good, but undoubtedly enjoyable nonetheless. The _thank you_ kiss, the _I love you_ kiss, the _that was wonderful _kiss – they are all great in their own ways. Then he gently embraces her with his strong arms and she feels safe and warm and loved. As the heat built from their firey dance leaves them and they compensate by snuggling under the blankets, he gives her the _good night_ kiss. Though it is but a lowly cheek kiss, it never fails to put a smile on her face because it's also the _I can't wait to wake up with you again_ kiss, as well as the _dreams aren't as good as reality_ kiss.

And then, hours later, they start again with another _good morning _kiss.

* * *

><p>Does anyone else feel like going into a diabetic coma after reading that? It's been a while since I did something sickeningly sweet. As always, thank you for reading. If you liked it, please leave a review, and I'll get to work on whatever's next.<p> 


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